


future love and light

by above_the_fold



Series: agostina [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: (Grand)dadmiral Christopher Pike, Babysitting, But That's Near the End, Cooking, Criticism Welcome, Dadmiral Christopher Pike, Day At The Beach, Family, Family Feels, Fluff, Friendship, General Shenanigans, He totally ships Jim and Bones, I really don't know how else to tag this, It's just a week of them being a family, Jim is becoming a Dad, Light Angst, M/M, Sassy Joanna McCoy, Starfleet Academy, movies - Freeform, no beta we die like men, slowly and then all at once
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:40:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28111791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/above_the_fold/pseuds/above_the_fold
Summary: This all may be woefully unfamiliar (and fleeting, he remembers with a pang) but he’s determined to enjoy it while it lasts, so he joins the table and pretends to steal a piece of Jo’s bacon, revelling in her indignant squeak and Bones’ bark of laughter.-Joanna spends a week at the Academy. Jim becomes a dad—slowly but surely.Title from "Agostina" by Puscifer.
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Joanna McCoy, James T. Kirk & Joanna McCoy & Leonard "Bones" McCoy, James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Joanna McCoy & Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Series: agostina [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885546
Comments: 10
Kudos: 51





	future love and light

**Author's Note:**

> I HAVEN'T ABANDONED THIS SERIES I PROMISE

Jim wakes up to the smell of bacon and Joanna’s face in his.

He stops himself from screaming and instead forces himself to smile up at her. She’s still in her purple pajamas, beaming at him as she scrambles down the bars leading up to his top bunk. “Daddy says wash up for breakfast, Uncle Jim!”

He rolls over with a heavy sigh. Last night’s budding hangover has mercifully dissolved into a manageable headache, and another quick shower won’t hurt (he and Bones had taken _very_ good advantage of his pressing need for one last night, after triple checking that Joanna was fast asleep and staying that way.)

Jim gathers his things and drags himself to the bathroom with an exaggerated yawn, mostly for a giggling Joanna’s benefit. The hot water damn near puts him to sleep again, until he’s roused by a resounding crash from the kitchen, followed by an explosive “DAMN IT” and a shriek of laughter. Sighing, he steps out and dresses with mild haste, prepared to face the mess that usually accompanies Bones in the kitchen.

“Uncle Jim! Daddy made us pancakes, look!”

Their tiny kitchen is indeed a mess. He steals Bones’ half-empty mug off the counter and sips, wholly appreciating the sight of his boyfriend in pajamas and bedhead, flipping pancakes and directing Jo to set the table. She does it with an enthusiasm that seems almost inappropriate in a six-almost-seven-year-old kid.

“Are you a Rebels fan too, Uncle Jim?” she asks over the clatter of forks.

Belatedly, he realizes that the sweatshirt he’s wearing belongs to Bones, and it does indeed say “Rebel Pride” across the front in big red letters. “Uh, sure,” he says, and ignores the incredulous noise from the direction of the stove. He knows nothing about football. 

Jo sets out three places and drags her suitcase over to the middle one. “Going somewhere?” he teases, though inwardly he’s confused. He knows kids do strange things, but...

“This is my seat,” she says, plunking it down and perching on top of it contentedly. “Y’all only have two chairs in here.”

“Jo,” Bones says, mildly exasperated. “Put your suitcase away. Jim, grab that stool out from under the sink.”

He sets it down and helps her up onto it like it’s her royal throne or something. Legs swinging, she asks very politely for a sip of his stolen coffee—it’s on the tip of his tongue to refuse, but he slides it over anyway. He’s Uncle Jim, after all. 

Jo goes cross-eyed over the rim of the mug. Jim anticipates what’s coming and ducks away from the table as she spits it out.

“That’s _so gross!_ ” she shouts over his roar of laughter. More coffee sloshes onto the tabletop as she fairly shoves the mug back at him. He knew she’d hate it: Bones never bothers with milk or sugar or anything in his morning coffee. Her scandalized look positively melts him.

“Jim, why,” Bones sighs as he turns and catches sight of them. “Look at the mess—Jo, come grab a napkin, baby.”

He sets a sizable stack of pancakes on the table and, when Jo’s not looking, pulls Jim into a kiss; clearly he’s forgiven for the coffee. “You’re doin’ these dishes.”

Or not. Jim takes one look at the sink, piled high with the dishes they never use thanks to the convenience of the replicator, and groans. 

“I’ll help you, Uncle Jim!” Jo says brightly, already back at the table and upending the bottle of maple syrup over her plate. “I’m real good at doin’ the dishes. Just not the glass ones.”

“That’s enough syrup, Jo,” her father says, taking it and passing her a plate of bacon. “Leave enough for Uncle Jim.”

A smile curves his lips at that. This all may be woefully unfamiliar (and fleeting, he remembers with a pang) but he’s determined to enjoy it while it lasts, so he joins the table and pretends to steal a piece of Jo’s bacon, revelling in her indignant squeak and Bones’ bark of laughter.

* * *

On Sunday they take Jo to Mile Rock Beach. Jim never wants the afternoon to end, and he can tell Bones feels the same. It’s nice to wear civvies and open-toed shoes (Jim abandons his after a while and goes around barefoot.) The weather is fine, but from the west, a bank of dark clouds promises rain tomorrow. 

The two of them take turns entertaining Jo out in the water. He doesn’t know which he enjoys more—chasing her through the waves (he never quite manages to catch her) or the sight of a shirtless and sun-tanned Bones, pretending to be an angry sea monster as Jim lounges on the beach, shouting encouragement to Joanna. She’s the most adorable pirate he’s ever seen.

Their game dissolves as Bones snags the back of her purple swimsuit and plunges them both into the surf. They come up laughing, cheek to cheek, and Bones turns them around to wave at him. 

Jim squints into the sun and smiles.

They break for lunch eventually, startling him out of a light nap. Jo peels the tomatoes off her sandwich and trades them for Jim’s pickles. Bones sips his iced tea with his eyes closed, looking so serene and untroubled that Jim hardly recognizes him.

Later they walk the shoreline in search of something pretty for Jo to take with her back to Georgia. Jim braces her tiny body as they tackle the high-tide waves at sundown—he and Bones secretly hope she’ll tire herself out, even if it means carrying her home. 

But no—as they make their way back to the rental car, Jo scrambles up and down the boulders ahead of them, ignoring Bones’ frantic shouting. She’s agile, surprisingly so for a kid her age, but Jim has very quickly learned not to be surprised by her precociousness. She _is_ her father’s daughter, after all.

“Let her go, Bones,” he says as his hand is crushed for a fourth time—the older man tenses every time Jo leaps. Like either one of them is going to let her fall. 

They keep an eye on her as they walk, fingers tangled together. It feels like something out of a holo-movie—enough to make him forget about tomorrow. 

* * *

He’s jarred awake by the sound of his comm. Rolling over, he flips it open and mutters, “Kirk.”

“God damn it, Jim, you were supposed to be in Pike’s office half an hour ago!”

He sits up so quickly that his head cracks the ceiling. “ _Fuck!_ ”

He chances a glance at the time—it’s 0835. His meeting with Pike was at 0800. His Interspecies Protocol class is at 0900.

He is late and in danger of being late again. Jumping down from the bed, he rushes for the bathroom, ending the transmission with another muffled swear. It’s not until he’s shoving his feet into his boots that he remembers Joanna.

She’s still asleep, worn out from yesterday’s trip, and he makes the executive decision to wake her up and take her with him. He can skip Protocol and bring her straight back to the apartment when he’s done; fix her some breakfast before he’s dashing off to his Astrogation lecture.

“Jo.” He rolls her over as gently as he can and taps her cheek. “Jo, wake up.”

She whines as he sits her up and taps the side of her face again. “ _Jim._ ”

“Sorry, baby,” he says contritely, and immediately freezes. That—that’s not his name for her. He has no idea where it came from.

Silence. He’s just preparing to amend the words when he realizes she’s merely fallen back asleep, little face still scrunched up in annoyance.

Yeah, she’s cute, but Jim doesn’t have time for this, as much as he hates to disturb her. He pushes her hair out of her eyes, rouses her again, and as she sits up he wrestles her feet into her pink boots. “I’m sorry, I have to go to a meeting. I can’t just leave you here—come on. Should only take a few minutes.” 

Mercifully, she doesn’t protest. He scoops her up and rushes out the door.

-

It’s raining outside. The quad is full of people in cadet reds, hurrying to their morning classes. Jim ducks and weaves his way towards the Command building, ignoring the strange looks he receives from a few passing classmates. It’s not that uncommon to see Jim Kirk on his way to officers’ headquarters—but with a kid in tow?

He spots Uhura on the steps of the Xenolinguistics building and averts his gaze as he passes. He just _knows_ the look she’s probably giving him, and he doesn’t even care. It’s nothing compared to the look Bones will undoubtedly be giving him later.

Jo is settled on his hip, head on his shoulder and sound asleep again in spite of everything. Jim is slightly envious of her as he forces his way through the onslaught outside Command.

He takes the stairs two at a time and makes it to Pike’s office just as his watch reads 0900. Perfect—he now has an excuse to ditch Interspecies Protocol. He knocks with his free hand and stands at attention as heavy footsteps sound behind the door.

He’s a little nervous. Not because he’s late, not for that Tactical Analysis exam he’ll be taking for the fourth time (and that he most definitely didn’t study for this weekend), not for the lecture he’s about to hear on both fronts. It’s just the way he always gets around Christopher Pike. Three years later, he has never stopped trying to earn the man’s respect. 

He focuses on Jo’s steady breathing, her warm weight in his arms, and waits.

The door opens, and Pike stares. Jim sighs as respectfully as he can. “Sorry I’m late, sir.”

Jo lifts her head with a little sigh, blinking at him with a sleepy smile. Jim tries not to let Pike see the way it softens him as he returns it. “Is he one of your teachers, Uncle Jim?”

“Fortunately, no,” Pike answers her, ignoring Jim’s baleful look. 

He parks her in the lone chair opposite Pike’s desk—the one he normally occupies—and stands behind her, steeling himself for the double ass-chewing he’s undoubtedly fixing to receive. Jo sits unwittingly between them, a tiny human shield of sorts. Pike resumes his usual position behind his desk, the both of them towering over her, and opens his mouth—

“You must be Miss McCoy.”

Jim’s jaw drops.

Jo smiles brightly at the captain, not intimidated in the least. “I’m Joanna! But everybody just calls me Jo.”

Rather like Bones, Pike doesn’t smile often, but there’s always a certain warmth in his eyes, one that softens the lines on his face and reassures as well as a smile might. As he gazes at Joanna McCoy, head tilted slightly, Jim can tell he’s completely smitten.

Gleefully, he opens his mouth to comment, and Pike’s gaze snaps to his.

“Don’t push your luck, James.” 

He straightens to attention without a word. Jo tips her head back to face him, frowning. “I thought your name was _Jim._ ”

Pike looks outright amused. “It’s James when he’s in trouble.”

Her mouth falls open. Jim smirks, until she levels her incredulous gaze on _him._ “What did you _do?_ ” 

It’s the captain’s turn to smirk. “Tell her, James.”

_Tell me._

Jim hears the unspoken words and sighs, frustrated. “Look, Captain—I’m sorry I’m late. We got in late last night and I overslept.” Time and time again, he’s learned that honesty is best in Pike’s office. “I don’t know what happened on that exam, but I…” He meets Jo’s reproachful gaze, then the captain’s calmer (but no less interested) one, and finds he has no excuse, really. 

“I can take the exam again this afternoon,” he offers dully, “once I get her back to the apartment.” Bones’ afternoon shift ends at 1700 today, but he can probably leave Jo with the off-duty nurses until her dad can come and get her. Bones is surprisingly friendly with his team down in medical (he deems it necessary for productivity.) Jim’s sure they wouldn’t mind.

(It’s just that _he_ would mind. Fuck Tactical Analysis. He only has four days left with his—niece? _Boyfriend’s daughter_ sounds so detached from the spitfire little girl that won his heart the second he laid eyes on her. She’s become so much more in such an infinitely short span of time, and he shouldn’t be surprised. He fell hard and fast for both McCoys.)

Pike nods slowly, like he expected nothing less. Wrong—Jim Kirk always has an excuse for something like this. He frowns, trying to read the older man’s face, but he’s interrupted by Jo, who climbs onto the chair and leans her face up into his, their noses touching. 

“I’m hungry, Uncle Jim,” she says, voice pitching on a bit of a whine.

Pike waits, arms folded, as he lifts her up and promises her another round of pancakes with a placating smile. Content, she rests her chin on his shoulder, and he sighs and turns a mildly pleading gaze on his commanding officer, awaiting dismissal. Bones is already going to kill him dead for oversleeping and bringing Jo out in the rain—he isn’t about to add starving her to the list. 

“Dismissed. You’ll take your exam Saturday afternoon.” Pike looks unimpressed, but there’s warmth (he might dare to call it fondness) in his voice as he says, “You’ve got bigger priorities.”

Jim has to ask. “How did you know she was B—McCoy’s daughter?”

Pike gives him a look that says _How did you?_ and that’s fair enough, he thinks as he strokes her hair out of her dark eyes. She most definitely favors Bones McCoy to anyone who doesn’t know her mother, and as far as Jim knows, nobody out in San Francisco is unfortunate enough to. “So... you knew she was coming out this week?” 

“Who do you think gave McCoy leave on Sunday,” Pike counters without inflection, and even goes so far as to open the door for them. Jim turns, mouth agape, but the older man merely waves him out.

“Best get her home, Jim,” he says, and the corner of his mouth turns up in a small, private smile. “And something to eat.” A pause. “ _Study._ ” 

“He called you Jim, Uncle Jim,” Jo mumbles drowsily into his shoulder as they start down the hallway. “I don’t think you’re in trouble anymore.” He feels her hand brush his neck as she honest to God _waves_ to Pike.

Jim feels that knowing gaze on him from afar even as Jo laughs, delighted—Pike must’ve waved back. “Nah… I think the trouble’s just begun, kiddo.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/comments appreciated, as always, and happy holidays! I'll try to update again before they're over.


End file.
